


favourite worst nightmare

by teddyaltmeme



Category: here are the young men
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, fellas is it gay to hate someone but still be obsessed with them, just some casual smooching, this is not kearney apologism i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddyaltmeme/pseuds/teddyaltmeme
Summary: He’s starting to think Kearney only invites him to see if he’ll come; there’s never any other reason.
Relationships: Matthew Connelly/Joseph Kearney
Kudos: 5





	favourite worst nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> this isn’t abt me liking kearney this is abt me being h*rny for finn cole ok ! 
> 
> can eoin macken release the movie already tho there’s only so many times i can read the book

Something has shifted between him and Kearney. The accident changed some fundamental part of their relationship, but Matthew can’t pinpoint what it is. He still hates Kearney, he’s not sure it’s even possible to like Kearney, but he’s stuck on him. That moment in the police station, where Kearney had smiled at him and he’d smiled back, they’d seen each other plainly. It’s like Kearney knows who he is deep, deep down, beyond whatever Rez thinks he sees.

When Kearney leaves for America it’s easy enough not to think about it- he can toss his postcards and delete his emails. Kearney rarely enters his mind, save a few fleeting thoughts of his smile; shark teeth.  
When he returns, however, is when things get difficult. In his head he knows he could just ignore Kearney’s calls- block his number even- but the curiosity always wins out. It’s like Kearney has him on one of those retractable dog leads; Matthew thinks he’s free, then all of a sudden the slack runs out and he’s pulled back in. He goes even when he doesn’t want to and he’s not sure why.  
Matthew’s laying on Kearney’s bed, watching as he plays some new game- alarmingly violent per the norm. He’s starting to think Kearney only invites him to see if he’ll come; there’s never any other reason. Staring at the back Kearney’s head, he wonders absently what his hair might feel like, if it’s soft, if the shaved sides aren’t. 

‘Connelly?’ It’s just one word but it seems distinctly predatory, as if anything that comes after is going to be a trap. He pauses his game. 

‘Mmhmm?’ He lets his head fall back, too stoned to care what comes next. Kearney’s bed is weirdly comfortable; the sheets are soft and it smells overwhelmingly like him- which is, surprisingly, pretty good. 

‘I could feel you staring at me,’ Matthew can sense the smirk in his voice, he always sounds like he’s in on a secret you don’t know. He ignores the clatter of the controller as it falls to the floor and pointedly doesn’t look when Kearney turns around. When he finally opens his eyes it’s to Kearney standing over him. Matthew hadn’t even heard him move; he’s unsettlingly silent when he wants to be.  
He crouches down, eye level now, ‘You got something to say to me?’

‘No,’ Matthew answers, and when Kearney smiles he feels himself smiling back again. There’s something about Kearney’s grin that’s infectious; insidious even. It’s unnerving really, too much teeth and not enough warmth, it reaches his eyes but it only serves to make him seem more manic than usual. Matthew looks away again, gaze drifting to the pictures on the wall. They’re mostly group photos, almost all of which are defaced in some way; Rez’s face scratched out, Jen’s tits circled, Cocker’s throat slashed, Xs over Matthew’s eyes. There is one, though, that remains untouched- it’s of him. He’s not sure when Kearney took it, or if it was even him that did, but it’s there nonetheless. Just Matthew, alone, sat on the beach staring at the waves as they come in. It’s not a bad picture of him- it’s better than most- but he’s not really sure why that, of all of them, is the one Kearney’s kept clean. Matthew feels the bed dip and all of a sudden Kearney is on top of him; straddling his lap. Maybe it’s because he’s high but he’s not as scared- or disgusted- as he thinks he probably should be. 

‘I could kill you,’ Whether Kearney means right now or just in general, Matthew’s not sure- nor does he think it really matters, ‘You know that right?’ 

‘Are you going to?’ There’s no point in denying it; Kearney may be shorter but he’s certainly stronger and Matthew doesn’t reckon himself a hard person to kill. 

‘Not sure yet,’ Kearney muses, quiet and low. Maybe it’s the timbre of his voice or the look in his eye, hopefully just the weight of him on his lap, but that old familiar feeling settles in his gut and he knows he’s fucked. If Kearney notices- which he almost certainly will- he’ll never live it down. Kearney shifts; resettles in a way that makes it seem like he has no intention of moving. When they were younger he’d found the way Kearney looks at him upsetting, now however, theres something calming about the lack of regard in his gaze. It makes him feel as though nothing matters. Kearney lives in a different world; one where no one else is real and everything is unimportant. There are times when Matthew wishes he lived there too. 

Kearney’s palm connects with his face, and while it’s a soft gesture- as soft as Kearney can be- it hits Matthew as though it were a slap. The heat of Kearney’s calloused skin on his cheek is almost like a brand. He’s surprised he doesn’t flinch. Kearney’s fingers trace over his skin, brushing his hair off of his forehead as he goes. If it were anyone else it might seem sweet, loving even, but coming from Kearney it feels more like an examination than anything. Matthew doesn’t want to think too hard about why he’s not pushing Kearney away- it’s not like he’s actively restraining him. If he tries hard enough he can justify it as curiosity; he just wants to know what Kearney’s endgame is. It becomes a lot harder to justify, though, when Kearney leans forward. Body bent at the waist, his face hovers inches above Matthew’s; close enough to feel his breath. Close enough to count the freckles that muddy his complexion- almost lost underneath the Boston tan. 

‘Matthew,’ Kearney teases in that dreadful baritone of his; so low and warm and wicked that it eclipses everything else, ‘Aren’t ye going to tell me to stop?’ 

‘Not sure yet,’ Matthew mirrors in lieu of anything real. He doesn’t want to have to make this choice, to answer seems like giving in; either way it’s an admission of weakness. It garners a laugh from Kearney regardless. Maybe this is just a game of chicken- just a way to find out how far he can push Matthew before he starts to fight back. It occurs to him now that Jen had almost definitely been right when she’d said he wasn’t completely dysfunctional. Absently, he feels Kearney’s hand in his hair but he’s too preoccupied by the proximity of their mouths to really register it. He’s starting to get antsy waiting for Kearney to do something; anything, but he thinks thats probably the point. When Kearney finally makes contact he’s almost surprised. 

Kissing Kearney is different than kissing Jen- which shouldn’t be strange considering they’re essentially polar opposites, but it catches Matthew off-guard nonetheless.  
There’s something far more fervent about it; Kearney kisses like he means it, at least as much as you can mean a kiss. There’s nothing soft about Kearney; he’s all harsh lines and solid muscle. Matthew finds he likes it more than he thought he would.  
Kearney’s free hand trails down his arm and comes to rest on his wrist- for a second Matthew thinks he might be checking his pulse but then his grip tightens and he’s pinning Matthew’s hand beside his head. For a second he feels afraid, hit by the realisation that he’s pretty much trapped, but it’s buried by shame when he finds that he sort of wants to be. The hand that was in Matthew’s hair finds it’s way to his jaw; tilting his head to bare his neck. It’d be easy to kill him this way, just to choke him until he stops breathing, and he thinks- no knows- the same thought strikes Kearney. He shudders as Kearney’s thumb drags across his skin; a makeshift knife to slit his throat. Kearney just smiles and leans back in, apparently content to leave a hickey instead. One that Matthew’s definitely going to have to make an excuse for. 

Kearney rolls off of him with a sigh, his departure just as unexpected as his arrival, and it leaves Matthew feeling cold and unsatisfied. He considers about following briefly, about flipping their previous position, but he thinks it’ll come across desperate and feel all too much like giving in.

Matthew turns to look at him and there’s a second right before Kearney notices him staring where, before the mask slips back on, where his face is completely expressionless. It reminds Matthew of something Cocker said; _fifty-six minutes of him just staring at the camera_. It shakes him a little. He tries to think of something to say just to fill up the silence but Kearney beats him too it.

‘I told Cocker we’d meet him in town,’ Kearney starts, aloof and unaffected, Matthew sort of wants to slap him, ‘Should probably head off.’ 

‘I guess so.’


End file.
